


David Brewer and the Seventh Circle of Hell

by Aelia_Gioia



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Bottom Patrick, M/M, Protective!Patrick, Sex, Smut, The DMV is Hell, Top David
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_Gioia/pseuds/Aelia_Gioia
Summary: David hasn't changed his last name on his driver's license yet.Why?Because the DMV* sucks.Since uploading this, I've been informed that it's not called the DMV in Canada. I made corrections in the fic and changed the title. Thanks to rooster_crow for the corrected information!
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88





	David Brewer and the Seventh Circle of Hell

Without a single, solitary doubt, the Service Ontario building in Elmdale was the seventh circle of hell. 

The building was old; practically prehistoric, dark and dingy. The smell of decades of decay permeated into the pores of anyone who was unlucky enough to find themselves there. Looking at the stained ceiling tiles, one could assume they were made of at least 80% pure asbestos. The carpets had once been hunter green but after years of foot traffic, they had turned a muddy, stained, threadbare, vomit brown. 

The mood of the employees matched the disrepair of the building where they worked. Everyone was cheerless, nobody cared. The cramped cubicles where they eked out their days weren’t decorated with any sort of personal touches, flair, or smiling family photos. 

David had put off changing his name and address on his ID for as long as he possibly could. Patrick, Boy Scout that he was, had made the trek up to Elmdale as soon as they finished unpacking all of their belongings into their new house, of course. David continuing to delay making the change resulted in a fight and Patrick’s feelings were hurt. Having the same last name wasn’t a small detail to Patrick. 

If David had chosen to keep his own name, Patrick would have taken Rose. David was adamant about their wedding hashtag _ (# _ _ becomingtheBrewers _ _ ) _ and he said emphatically that he wanted to take Patrick’s last name. A Google search of David Brewer didn’t bring up embarrassing pictures of David before his family’s financial downfall; it was a fresh start. 

Patrick felt somewhat better once David confessed that he wasn’t having second thoughts about the change, he just didn’t want to go to the actual place to get it done. 

Patrick sat back in the booth at the Café where they’d been arguing over tuna melts. 

“That’s it? That’s why you haven’t done it yet?” He dipped a French fry in the little puddle of ketchup on his plate. 

“Yes! Yes, I swear that’s the _ only _ reason! I’m sorry, Patrick. I’m gonna be stuck in there _all day _ and it’s so gross. I promise I’ll…I’ll go tomorrow,” he sighed and held his hand out for Patrick’s, hoping the fight could end. 

“Well…I’ll go with you.” Patrick took a beat and let his irritation come through a little more. “It’s not a nice place but I mean…come on, David.” He was relieved that the resolution was simple but he was still annoyed that it took an argument for David to tell him what was going on. 

“You don’t have to do that. I have the day off, I’ll go.” David closed his hand around Patrick’s and squeezed. He ran his thumb over Patrick’s wedding ring and smiled. 

“No, it’s ok. I’ll go with you so you’re not alone. We can close the store early. If we go in the afternoon before they close, we’ll be in and out.” The hurt and aggravation formerly painting Patrick’s expression melted away and David was looking at the face of his husband; the person who loved him more than anyone ever would. 

Why else would Patrick voluntarily go to the worst place in the world? 

The following day, Patrick closed the shop promptly at 1:15 and met David at their house just outside the town limits where he’d busied himself hanging new curtains and rearranging the contents of the kitchen cabinets (again). Even though he had told Patrick he’d go that day, he still tried to get out of it by inventing a decorating emergency out of thin air. 

As he explained needing to be able to _ specifically _ see the 2:25 pm sunlight come through the living room windows in order to be sure that he didn’t hate the wall color, Patrick crossed his arms and patiently waited for him to finish speaking. 

“Over the top?” David finally said, seeing the bemused expression on Patrick’s face. 

“A tad,” Patrick replied, lifting his right hand and making a pinching motion with his forefinger and thumb. 

“I tried,” David put his arms around Patrick’s neck. 

“Come on. We’ll be done before you know it. Maybe we can go to _ Le Creuset _ at the mall before we head back. I really wanted that blue lasagna pan on the wedding registry. And I’ll buy you a pretzel.” He kissed David’s cheek and indicated towards the door with a tilt of his head. 

By 2:30 they were sitting in the odorous, creaky chairs that were arranged far too close together for David’s comfort. Patrick was trying to keep his husband’s spirits up but the factors he hadn’t considered when he’d suggested being there later in the day were the mood of the people who had been waiting all day as well as the body odor of those same folks. 

“Now serving number 1103 at window number 1,” the automated voice announced through the ancient loudspeaker. 

David gripped his ticket, numbered 1111, tried breathing through his mouth and subtly pinched his nose closed but it did little to stop the invading sweaty funk from entering his nostrils. He lamented having worn the Helmut Lang wool hoodie but was comforted to know that there was a fresh, sweet-smelling sweater in Patrick’s car waiting for him; the soft, warm mall pretzel was a bonus that he could taste already. 

The sounds of the center were almost as offensive as the scents. People were coughing and sneezing, making David cringe and hide his face in the neckline of his sweater. The place was positively crawling with kids who all somehow had runny noses and had never heard the term “inside voice”. A little boy screeched at the top of his lungs when his exhausted mother told him she hadn’t packed a second pack of fruit snacks. Until her father’s number was called, the seat right next to David was occupied by a little girl who was singing the same wrong words to “Let It Go” for about twenty minutes while she waved a naked Barbie doll in his face. David could ignore the kids; he’d spent years in a motel with Alexis and had become fairly adept at tuning her childish whining out. What he was having difficulty ignoring was the grown adults listening to loud music and using Facetime without earbuds. His head was pounding and he’s started to wonder if he could just write ‘Brewer’ on his driver’s license with a fine tip Sharpie and call it a day. 

Ten minutes later. 

“Now serving number 1104 at window number 5.” 

Five minutes after that. 

“Now serving number 1105 at window number 3.” 

Thirteen minutes after that. 

“Now serving number 1106 at window number 2.” 

Three more minutes passed. 

“Now serving number 1107 at window number 4.” 

Patrick checked his watch and shifted in his seat. He’d had to pee for the past 15 minutes but didn’t want to desert his husband in the belly of the beast. He switched the way he’d crossed his legs and cursed the clerk at the gas station for upselling the size of bottled water he’d purchased. 

“If you have to go, just go,” David put his palm on Patrick’s thigh and leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

“No, it – it’s fine,” Patrick grunted and adjusted his crotch over his jeans. 

“Patrick, if you wet your pants, you don’t get your lasagna pan, I don’t get my pretzel and we have to leave here and come back another day. The entirety of today’s plan comes undone if you don’t go to the washroom right now,” David said in a hushed voice. 

Patrick opened his mouth to protest but he sighed and admitted that the fullness of his bladder was definitely becoming an uncomfortable emergency situation. He kissed David’s cheek and promised to return quickly. 

Ten minutes later, David was about to panic. 

He’d been texting Stevie, holding his phone up at an angle so that he could see the screen despite the glare due to the sunlight coming in the old, curtainless windows. She’d asked him if Satan had washed his asshole recently (by which she meant ‘is it as gross as it was last time I was there?’) and he laughed out loud before tapping his response. 

“What the hell are you laughing at?” The dirty man in ripped work jeans and dirtier flannel shirt barked at him. 

“Now serving number 1108 at window number 1.” 

David didn’t think there was any way the man was talking to him, the comment barely registered on his radar. 

“Hey – hey YOU!” He was up on his feet pointing directly at David. People in the vicinity began to look uncomfortable. 

“Are you addressing me?” David asked, still holding his phone in the same position. 

“Now serving number 1109 at window number 3.” 

The man scoffed angrily. 

“_ Yes, _ I’m ‘addressing’ you, asshole – turn off your camera.” He took a few steps closer to David. 

“What? I’m not – I’m just sitting here,” David flicked both of his wrists and his eyebrows knit together, his upper lip was lifted slightly in a snarl. 

“You ain’t got no right to video tape me! Turn it off or I’m gonna smash it!” 

“I – I…what?! I’m not videoing you.” David turned his phone around to show the open text screen, not the camera. 

“Your generation,” the man growled deep in his chest. “Always on the goddamned phone – I’d smash ‘em all if I could.” 

He started to get close enough for David to smell his sweat and the automotive grease smeared all over his hands and clothes. 

“Now serving number 1110 at window number 4.” 

“Sir, I’m sitting here waiting, same as you. I’m minding my own business,” David said, trying to temper his reaction and the tone of his voice. He wanted to appear confident but his heart was thumping wildly, he was intimidated. No social interaction in his previous 36 years had prepared him for something like this; he was getting scared. 

“Minding your own business videotaping me? You work for _ them _, don’t you?” Before David could think to react the man was right up in front of him. He smelled even worse up close and in spite of being of a thin, wiry frame, he was intimidatingly big. 

“HEY!” 

Suddenly the man’s torso was pulled in the opposite direction and he was sliding across the floor on his rear end, scrambling to stand up. Patrick was standing protectively in front of David with one hand out in front of him, warning the man he’d flung like a rag doll to stay put and one hand out to David to keep him in the same chair. 

“Stay the hell away from my husband,” Patrick pointed his finger. 

“He was videotaping me!” the man insisted. 

“No I was _ not!” _David gripped Patrick’s arm and shouted over his shoulder. 

“Now serving number 1111 at window number 2.” 

“That’s us. Patrick – Patrick?” David tried pulling Patrick by the wrist. 

“Don’t let me ever see you near him again. Or we’re gonna have a big _fucking_ problem,” Patrick sneered at the man still sitting on the floor. David was finally successful at pulling him away from the scene of the altercation and they completed their business within ten minutes. It wouldn’t have even taken that long if David didn’t need to primp for his new photo. His hair had slightly deflated after sitting in the waiting area for so long. 

Patrick wore the same menacing grimace while they dealt with the miserable monotone of the Federal employee in his cubicle. He kept looking behind them to ensure that the man who had gone after David wasn’t heading their way. They didn’t speak except for the very simplest essential sentences. 

“Do you have your card?” 

“Hm?” 

“Card – your charge card. Mine’s in my Gucci wallet.” 

“What wallet do you have?” 

“The Fendi.” 

“Yeah, um…here use my Visa.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Yup.” 

When they were finished, David had a white paper print out reflecting the name change and their new address. The actual ID would arrive by mail in a few weeks. As soon as they could leave, Patrick popped up from his chair, grabbed David’s wrist and yanked him towards the stairs. David double-timed his steps to keep up with Patrick as they ran down the staircase and out into the fresh air. 

To Patrick’s relief, they were safely locked inside his car and pulling out of the parking lot moments later. 

“So…off to the mall?” David asked, hoping to break the tension and make Patrick smile. 

“I’ll order the pan online. We’re going home,” Patrick gripped the steering wheel and switched on the radio. 

David sighed, deciding not to make a fuss about his highly anticipated pretzel. He texted Stevie, filling her in on watching his husband physically remove a man from his personal space. 

_ I’m so fucking turned on. _

** TMI. **

_ Sorry. I’ve never seen him like that. It was so HOT. He’s competitive but... _

The ride back was quiet except for the radio. David was so aroused he was able to completely ignore the way his sweater smelled and he pulled it down over his crotch. 

Patrick hit the button on the remote control clipped to the driver’s side visor and the garage door opened as they pulled into their driveway. He shifted into park and got out of the car without speaking to David. David followed him inside and found him in the bedroom, putting his shoes in his side of the closet. 

He knocked on the door, hoping to get Patrick’s attention. 

“Hmm?” 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah. Yes. Are you?” Patrick untucked his shirt and pulled his socks off, tossing them into the laundry basket. 

“Very alright. Um…thanks,” David’s arms were tucked into his sides and he nervously spun the gold engagement ring on his forefinger around. 

“Thanks for what?” 

“For…coming to my rescue like a fucking superhero. You were like a one-man MCU,” he grinned. Patrick’s facial expression finally softened and he returned the smile, appreciating David’s reference to his preferred comic book film universe. 

“You don’t have to thank me, David. You’re my husband – that guy was clearly nuts. If I thought I could talk him down, I would have. There just wasn’t time. I had to resort to other means of getting him away from you,” Patrick approached him and tucked both hands into the back pockets of David’s jeans. He leaned in to kiss him but made a disgusted face when he caught a whiff of the utter rankness of David’s sweater. 

“Oof, yeah – sorry David. Let’s get this off of you. I’ll bring it to the dry cleaners tomorrow,” Patrick said He didn’t wait for David to react before he started tugging the sweater and undershirt up over his head. David smirked and obediently lifted his arms, allowing Patrick to start undressing him. 

Once David’s chest was exposed, Patrick leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue up his ribs to his right nipple. He circled it and took it between his teeth, sucking and biting on it. David closed his eyes and let his head loll backward, sucking air between his teeth. 

“Yesss,” he hissed and scraped his nails against Patrick’s scalp. 

“Mmm, you want some more of that?” Patrick sucked on David’s nipple and traced his tongue to the opposite side of his chest, sucking and biting the other nipple even harder. 

“Aaaaah,” David sighed. “Patrick? Patrick honey?” 

“Mm?” Patrick lowered himself to his knees and looked up at David with a hungry expression in his eyes. He pulled David’s pants open and down past his ass in a fluid, practiced motion. David grunted when his husband started mouthing at him over his boxers. He felt himself start to leak precum and it mixed with Patrick’s saliva, effectively soaking the front of the black designer cotton underwear. 

“Oh _ fuck_,” David moaned and pumped his hips a little towards Patrick’s face and held his head in place with one hand. 

Patrick reached down and undid his own fly, releasing a bit of the pressure on his aching cock. His face was pink and wet from rubbing against the soaked fabric of David’s boxers. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Patrick groaned. “Fill my ass with your cock, David.” 

“You have no idea how bad I want that right now,” David replied with a grin. “Get up here.” 

David gripped Patrick’s arms when he stood up and he crushed their lips together, virtually sucking the air from Patrick’s lungs. David pushed his tongue past Patrick’s lips and the wet smacking sounds of their passionate kissing was almost too loud. 

Patrick started them both moving back towards the bed. He started walking forward, pushing David backward until they ungracefully tumbled onto the mattress. David scooted to the center of the bed with Patrick in hot pursuit of him, their lips barely parting. 

Patrick ground his hips into David’s thigh and pushed his hand into his boxers. Spit slick and hard, his silken skin slid easily in Patrick’s fist. David moaned and gasped into his mouth. 

David’s fingers tangled in the front of Patrick’s shirt but they wouldn’t cooperate when he tried undoing the buttons. Sensing that David was having difficulty, Patrick wiggled until he was straddling David. He bit his lower lip while he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. David tried lifting his hips to get some friction but Patrick just smirked and leveraged his own weight down firmly, not allowing David any kind of relief. 

“Ughhh...” David groaned in frustration and covered his face with his hands. 

“So...fucking...impatient...” Patrick enunciated each word slowly as he scolded his husband. David’s eyes narrowed when the last button opened. He winked and finished removing his shirt. 

“You get off on torturing me,” David whined. 

“And _ you,” _Patrick traced his finger from David’s temple, down his cheek, across his mouth, then between his engorged lips. “Get off on being a brat.” 

David hummed hungrily and sucked on Patrick’s thick finger. With a roll of his hips, Patrick’s ass pressed into David’s cock, making both men moan. 

“Mmm...” David groaned and raised an eyebrow as he scraped his nails down Patrick’s chest. He loved watching Patrick’s pale skin turn red with the slightest scratch. Patrick pulled his finger free and started rocking in David’s lap; taunting him, teasing him. David felt like a 16-year-old on the brink of shooting in his pants. Patrick pressed both palms into David’s chest and doubled the pressure of his motions but halved the speed. 

“Are you going to ride me, Patrick?” David’s seductive tone made Patrick’s dick twitch. “Do you want me to fuck up into your perfect tight ass?” 

His husband’s smile said ‘yes’ but his voice said, “You talk far too much.” 

Patrick pushed two fingers into David’s mouth and he responded enthusiastically; humming and sucking and pushing his tongue up between his fingers. Patrick rolled his head back and bit his lower lip. 

“Fuck that’s so hot,” He moaned. 

“Mthakeovyerfants,” David tried speaking and accidentally gagged himself on Patrick’s fingers. 

He pulled his hand back when David coughed and sputtered. 

“What was that?” 

David gasped and his breathing became staccato. “For Christ’s sake Patrick, take off your pants!” 

His hazel eyes were wild when Patrick got off the bed and made quick work of the rest of his clothes. He climbed back on the bed and pulled David’s boxers off. As he tossed them to the floor with the rest of their clothes, Patrick grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand. 

He snapped it open, squirted some on his fingers and David’s brain short-circuited when Patrick began opening himself up. He lightly squeezed his cock while he watched Patrick rock into his fingers, his face turning pink, his jaw slack, his eyes closed. 

And then there was the moaning. 

The soft whimpers and whines gave way to deep grunting. His thighs twitched and his toes curled. He licked his lips; his free hand was in his hair and he was gyrating his hips looking like a wet dream. 

“My _ god,_” David said softly to himself. He stroked his cock from root to tip and licked the dribble of precum off his fingers. 

He let Patrick indulge himself a little longer before rolling to his stomach and taking his cock in his mouth. Patrick gasped and grabbed a handful of David’s hair. 

Feeling himself about to cum, Patrick used both hands to push his husband’s mouth away. 

“Now...David...now...” he pinned David’s shoulders against the bed and kissed him deeply while getting into position. They both cried out when Patrick lowered himself on top of David and rolled his hips. 

“Mmm,” Patrick moaned. He relished in the feeling of fullness in his body. He didn’t bottom with any sort of regularity but that made it all the more pleasurable and so goddamned intense. 

Scraping his nails up and down Patrick’s thighs, David was entranced by his buttoned up, straight-legged denim-wearing husband ride his dick like a porn star. Patrick looked slightly square but David knew better. 

“Fuck...so good...mmm...” Patrick flopped forward and David pushed his tongue into his mouth. He flattened his feet on the bed and fucked up into Patrick’s tight hole. 

Trapped between their writhing bodies, Patrick’s dick was so close to exploding all over them both. 

“I want you deeper Baby, please...” Patrick moaned into David’s mouth. They kissed one more time and Patrick eased himself off, sucking air between his teeth. He laid on his back, his pupils blown wide open and shouted loudly when David slammed back inside him. 

He canted Patrick’s hip up a little, giving him the perfect angle to strike against his core. Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids and he dug his fingertips int David’s shoulder, pulling him downward. 

“I’m so close...fuck...” he voice was strained, like he’d sprained his vocal cords moaning. 

“Cum for me Baby,” David replied, wiping the sweat from Patrick’s forehead with the bedsheet. He held his palm to Patrick’s face and let him lick it, slicking him up as best he could. David reached between them and milked Patrick through a loud full-body orgasm. 

As he crested, David reached his own crescendo and they kissed lazily through the aftershocks. David carefully pulled out and took no small amount of satisfaction watching Patrick clench up to keep his ass full of cum. 

He padded to the washroom for a cloth wet with warm water and stopped at the refrigerator for a single-serving bottle of juice for them to split. He cleaned Patrick up and left a trail of soft kisses up his body while Patrick chugged half of their beverage. 

“Mine,” David said, reaching for the plastic bottle. 

“Yes. Yes I am,” Patrick responded with a wink. 


End file.
